


The Knights Before Christmas

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Parents, Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Cabin Fic, Christmas, Christmas Party, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Immortality, Mall Santa Claus, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: A collection of various paragraph prompts and ficlets, originally posted on tumblr, featuring the relationship between Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth at this festive time of year.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 545
Kudos: 437
Collections: Sevenmas & Other Winter Holidays





	1. "The Great Giant" - Brienne, working as a mall elf, runs into Jaime (Modern AU)

**Author's Note:**

> "Mall Santa extraordinaire Selywn, Santa’s not so little helper Brienne, and idiot best friend eating a soft pretzel Jaime" (anonymous)
> 
> This is my first festive prompt of the season; I’m so excited! *bounces* I’ve twisted your prompt a little, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

The Street of Steel Shopping Centre was jampacked, with it only being three weeks until Sevenmas. Normally, Brienne tried to avoid such areas during the holiday season: people were rude to her at the best of times, but a desire to get the perfect gift, the perfect decoration, only added to their discourtesy. However, this year her father had been asked to play the Great Giant in the winter wonderland display right at the heart of the shopping centre. Brienne, of course, would be one of his Children of the Snow. 

Brienne sighed, and adjusted her blue hat. _One more year until university._

“Happy Sevenmas, children!” boomed her father; the line of children squealing at the sight of the Great Giant. “Child, would you bring me my next visitor?” 

Brienne nodded, and ushered a six-year-old and her mother towards the Great Giant. Originally a Northern concept, the Great Giant was said to live beyond the Wall and bring fruit to those who were good, and ice to those who were bad. But as the years had gone on, the Great Giant had been incorporated into Sevenmas and was turned into a commercial opportunity. Children would receive a present from him every day of Sevenmas, but _only_ if they were good. 

“Now, little one, what would _you_ like for Sevenmas?”

She stood to one side as the child told the Great Giant what they would like from this festive season. Brienne squirmed in her outfit: blue waistcoat, blue shorts, white tights, pointed boots. It was _humiliating,_ but thankfully none of her peers at school would be seen _dead_ in a shopping centre. 

“Hello, Legs.” 

_Oh fuck._ Brienne cast her eye out into the long line for the Great Giant, only to spot Jaime _fucking_ Lannister right in front of her. His golden hair was tousled from the cool breeze outside; his neck wrapped up in a crimson scarf. His hands were placed upon the shoulders of a young boy with familiar hair and green eyes. Oh, and that _grin._ The young boy seemed happy to see the Great Giant. Lannister, however, seemed positively _thrilled_ to see her. 

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Legs?” 

Knowing from experience that Lannister would not stop until he got what he wanted, Brienne shuffled over to where he stood at the head of the queue. His eyes swept over her costume; lingering on the expanse of her legs in the unforgiving tights. 

“You’re really living up to your name, Legs.” 

“Piss off.” 

Jaime snorted. “Now, _now,_ is that any way for a Child of the Snow to behave? In front of a _child_ no less.” He patted the young boy’s shoulders. “This is Tyrion, my little brother.” 

The young boy stared up at Brienne; a missing tooth in his smile. “Hello. Your name’s not _really_ Legs, is it?” 

Lannister stifled a snort behind his hand. But Tyrion’s question didn’t seem one of malice, but mere curiosity. Maybe there was hope for the younger Lannister brother. After shooting Jaime a glare, Brienne knelt down so she could talk to Tyrion without the young boy craning his neck. She leant in; as if she was about to share some great secret. “My real name is Brienne. Your brother calls me Legs because he’s jealous mine are longer than his.” 

Tyrion laughed. Jaime did not. Brienne glanced back at her father, saw that the previous child had left, and offered her hand to Tyrion. “Would you like to meet the Great Giant now?” 

“Okay.” 

She walked Tyrion over to her father; the young boy happy to sit on his knee and pull at Selwyn Tarth’s very _real_ beard. Brienne stepped back to give the two of them some space, nearly bumping into Jaime as he took pictures on his phone. The grin he wore – the one that lit up his entire face – evaporated the moment she witnessed it. Straightening his shoulders, Jaime slipped his phone into his jeans pocket. His eyes flicked to her tight-clad legs again. 

“How much do they pay you an hour to wear that, Legs?” 

“Surely you can’t be after a parttime job, Lannister.” Brienne crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know why you’re here: your brother’s presents come from your daddy’s credit card, not the Great Giant.” 

A muscle twitched in Jaime’s cheek. “My _brother_ is seven years old, and has always wanted to see the Great Giant but no one cares enough to take him.” _Oh._ “And I don’t need a job, but I do want to know how much to offer you to wear _that_ get up around my house. Ding _dong,_ Legs.” 

“Bite me.” 

“If only you meant it.” 

Before they could descend into a brawl in front of the Great Giant’s castle, her father signalled to Brienne that he and Tyrion were done. She gave the young Lannister a candy cane, and the boy eagerly took Jaime’s hand. They went off without a second glance. The child next in line was crying, and whilst their father tried to soothe them, the Great Giant and his Child of the Snow had a moment alone. 

“He’s a nice-looking lad. Friend of yours from school?”

“Not exactly.” Brienne didn’t _have_ friends at her school. Just people who tolerated her, people who bullied her, and then _Jaime Lannister._ “What did Tyrion want, anyway? I can’t imagine there’s anything they don’t already have.” 

At that, her father’s smile faded. “He only wanted two things. A bicycle, as he’s never had one, and a friend for his brother.” He caught her eye, then. “As he’s never had one.” 

_Oh._


	2. "Jumper" - Jaime and Brienne wear matching Sevenmas jumpers to a party (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Christmas prompt of Brienne and Jaime showing up at a Christmas party in matching outfits and everyone mistakes them for a couple? It can be how they meet or if they know each other the matching is not on purpose (at least not on Briennes part). Thank you for you service! please accept this carafe of hot chocolate as a token of my appreciation." (doritosandchampagne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sips hot chocolate* This was supposed to be more bantery, but it just came out really, really soft. I hope you enjoy!

The Citadel had announced that winter had arrived only that morning, although, to Brienne, it felt like the Long Night was upon them. Bundled up in a bulky coat and scarf, she walked from the tube station towards Margaery’s home in one of the wealthier suburbs of King’s Landing. Her Sevenmas party was Brienne’s first of the festive season; there would be many, _many_ more before she took the trip home to Tarth for the end of year festivities. 

As a handful of revellers, already drunk, spilled onto the street, Brienne stifled a grimace. _Here we go._

Brienne entered Margaery’s home; the hostess quickly spotting her. “You came!”

 _Of course. You’d never let me live it down if I didn’t._ “I brought a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you; you’re a sweetheart. Here, let me take your coat. It’s _freezing_ outside, isn’t it?”

It was, but one could clearly mistake Margaery’s home for a Dornish summer judging by the apparel of the other party guests. Short skirts; cocktail dresses: skimpy material with lots of skin on show. Even Margaery was wearing an olive green dress with a split down the side. As Brienne took off her coat, she revealed the Sevenmas jumper she’d bought just the other day. Such was the joy of the Sevenmas jumper: no one would think her out of place. 

“So _cute_!” Margaery smiled at the blue jumper; a knitted image of the Maiden and ‘Happy Sevenmas’ upon the front. “I love it. Oh, Renly and Loras are here. I’ll be _right_ back, Brie!”

She knew from experience that Margaery would _not_ be back, so Brienne made her way into the party alone. There were a few familiar faces; old friends from university, names she recalled from previous parties. But no one she stopped to chat with. That was _fine._ Brienne would grab a drink, liberate a few sausage rolls and a napkin, and stand in a corner until a respectable hour. She achieved the first part: as well as the wet bar run by a topless Great Giant with a fake beard, there was also cups of hot cider. Brienne even managed to grab a few hors d'oeuvres. 

Brienne did _not_ manage to stand in a corner, however, as she quickly bumped into Jaime Lannister. “Oh!” She brushed a few crumbs from his chest. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine. I wasn’t–I was _actually_ looking for the party snacks.” 

“Oh, well, _here.”_

She offered him a green napkin filled with sausage rolls and two mini quiches. He took one and popped it in his mouth. She did the same; eating was a perfectly good excuse for _not_ conversing. They hadn’t talked since the end of the Greyjoy trial. Four months they had spent on either side of that courtroom, only to end up in a bar afterwards with a drunken Jaime admitting the truth about his client, Aerys Targaryen. 

He’d quit his job at Lannister, Clegane, and Frey two days later. 

“You look good,” Brienne admitted, after she finished her sausage roll. “I like the beard; it’s very festive.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. “I think I should dye it white for the holidays. It would drive my father nuts…not that I’m exactly invited to the festivities anymore.” 

Brienne bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m… _happy._ I should have left a long time ago. What about you? Any plans?”

She opened her mouth, ready to explain all about her trip to Tarth and her family traditions. But she didn’t say anything. Just stared at Jaime Lannister, his face open, eyes eager, and realised that this was the longest they had ever gone without insulting one another. Brienne had enjoyed their back-and-forth, she wouldn’t deny it, but this…it was almost like they were _friends._ And it wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. She _wanted_ to tell Jaime about the dawn swim in Shipbreaker Bay on the seventh day; the mock sword fight they held at Evenfall Hall and how she was reigning champion. She wanted to tell him _everything,_ and more strangely is that it seemed like he wanted to hear it. 

“Tarth? Do you not have any plans?” She tried to speak again, but nothing came out. A shadow crossed Jaime’s face. “Well, if you don’t have any, maybe we could—”

“ _Brienne_!”

She turned her head sharply from Jaime, only to spot Margaery cutting through the crowd. Her old friend stopped, stared at the pair of them, and _grinned._ “You two look like a Sevenmas card!” 

“Margaery, I don’t—”

“Seriously, you’re wearing matching jumpers!” 

It was then that Brienne realised that she and Jaime _were_ actually matching. Her blue Maiden jumper was a perfect companion to his gold Warrior jumper. They were both even wearing shirts underneath (he crimson; she rose). _Fuck_ both of them were even carrying cups of hot cider! It was like they had come off a Sevenmas card, or a festive catalogue. Brienne’s stomach fluttered at how _well_ they fit together. 

“Stand together, you two, I want to get a picture.”

“Margaery—”

She expected a protest from Jaime. One never came. “It’s just a picture, Brienne.”

So she and Jaime Lannister stood, wearing matching Sevenmas jumpers, whilst Margaery took a photo for her social media accounts. It was his arm that moved first; reaching around to press her close to his side. Her right arm, trapped between their bodies, escaped to wrap around Jaime, too. As his hand squeezed her hip, Brienne turned to look at him. She expected Jaime to be staring at the camera; white teeth bared for the photo. Instead, he was staring at her; the look he wore warming Brienne more than the cup of hot cider in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to prompt me at ddagent.tumblr.com


	3. "Gift Exchange" - Young Brienne gets Jaime in her class Secret Santa (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "this is basically the prompt i sent before but reversed and kids au?? teehee. the third grade class of Winterfell Primary decide to do a secret santa and to brienne’s horror she gets popular rich kid jaime lannister. whatever she gets him the kids laugh at her present but jaime is all starry eyed and begins to develop a baby crush on her as a result! it’s like backstory scene of the grinch live action movie! she makes me cry!!!!" (motherfaerie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE the Jim Carrey Grinch movie (and highkey ship him and Martha May) so I am all OVER this prompt. It came out sadder than intended, but I hope you enjoy it!

Brienne shuffled nervously into the classroom, ignoring the stares and blatant whispers of her classmates. At seven years old, she was already a head taller than the rest of the children. With her big teeth, mass of freckles, and thin blonde hair, she was a walking joke. Like always, she took her seat at the back of the class and buried her nose in a book. If she pretended to read, maybe they wouldn’t tease her. It hadn’t worked yet, but it was bound to at some point. 

The rest of her classmates entered, followed by Septa Donyse. “Good morning, children. Today, as you will remember, is our Great Giant Gift Exchange!” The children clapped. Brienne, however, did not. “Now, children, if you’d like to come up to the front and put down your gift. I’ll call you each up one at a time to find yours, and you can try and guess who gave it to you!” 

Sighing, Brienne opened her bag, retrieved her gift, and joined her classmates in walking to the front. On the other side of the classroom, Jaime Lannister put down his. It was expertly wrapped, with a neat bow upon the top. Whatever was inside was surely expensive: Jaime’s family was _rich;_ he always wore the best clothes, had the best gadgets. It’s why Brienne had despaired when she’d plucked his name from the bowl. Whatever she got him would never be enough. 

Nothing about Brienne was ever enough. 

With all the gifts laid out on the table, Septa Donyse called them up alphabetically to find their gift. Ron Connington got a brand new football. Melara Hetherspoon had been gifted the brand new ‘Queen Daenerys’ doll, with a comb to brush her long hair and a pet dragon, too. Septa Donyse read out a few more names before _Lannister, Jaime_ was called to the front. 

“So many gifts,” he said, winking back at their class. “Like my house every Sevenmas.”

Eventually, he found her gift. Brienne shrunk in her seat, not wanting to watch his reaction as he opened it. Jaime looked at the red and gold paper; the lion she had drawn onto the tag. His lips twitched before he tore into the gift. It was nothing special. What could she get the boy who had everything? Brienne had spent an entire weekend embroidering Goldenhand the Just in cross-stitch, with a Lannister lion on the side. Jaime _liked_ knights and the old stories. He’d said so during their history project last year. 

Their classmates, however, did not. Connington was the first to laugh. “What in Seven Hells is that?” 

“It’s awful!”

“My dog could stitch better than that!”

Connington, in the front row, continued to make japes about her gift. He plucked the embroidery from Jaime’s hand, scanned the classroom, and settled on her puce coloured face. “It’s Tarth! Tarth did it! This is _awful,_ Tarth! I’m surprised you could sew with hands _that_ big!”

The class descended into laughter; Melara and some of the other girls jeering _Big Brienne_ in her direction. Connington clapped Jaime on the back and tossed Brienne’s embroidery into the rubbish bin. “Best place for that, eh?”

More laughter. Septa Donyse quickly silenced the class with a wave of her hand. “That is _enough._ Jaime, please sit down. Now, if you can’t _behave,_ there will be no more gifts.” 

That was fine by Brienne. She didn’t want to go up and collect hers, anyway. But eventually, it came around to her name. She rose to her feet; whispers following her as she went to the front. There was only a handful of gifts left. Hers wasn’t the big one in the corner. Nor was it the small, colourfully wrapped box. Her gift was a single envelope, ‘Tarth’ written in red crayon. She opened it, and found a multitude of dried rose petals. 

“Merry Sevenmas, Tarth!” Connington called out. “Every girl should get flowers just once!” 

Brienne’s eyes filled with tears. She bit the inside of her mouth to stop them falling, but it did not help. Her classmates, smelling blood in the water, began to taunt her. Septa Donyse sent them all out for an early playtime, ordering them to grab their coats and go run outside. As the classroom emptied, the Septa did not try and comfort Brienne. Just let her go back to her seat and read in peace; crying behind the pages of her book. 

She sniffed and turned the next page; reading until a shadow fell over her. Brienne looked up. It was Jaime Lannister. “I’m–I’m sorry. About your gift.” 

“Don’t be.” His face burst into a smile, wider than she had ever seen on him. She brought the book down a fraction and saw her embroidery clutched in his grasp. “You made it just for me. It’s the best thing I’ve ever been given.”

Brienne wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “I remembered you like knights.”

Jaime’s head bounced up and down. “I love them. My Uncle Gerion gave me wooden swords last Sevenmas. My baby brother’s too little, and my sister doesn’t like swords, so I haven’t been able to use them yet.” 

“What about the other boys?” 

He shrugged. “They just want to play football. Maybe tomorrow, I could bring them in and we could play?”

Brienne could see it now. She’d get all excited about playing with Jaime Lannister; even wait outside for him with an eager smile. But he wouldn’t come. She’d see him playing on the football pitch, or playing _husband_ with Melara and the other girls. When she would ask him _why,_ he’d just laugh and say _what? Did you really think I’d want to play with you?_ No, no, she wouldn’t go through that again. 

“I don’t think so, Jaime.”

“Oh.” His smile dimmed. “Okay. Anyway, thank you for my gift.” Jaime reached down and pressed his lips to her cheek. “You’re the best, Brienne.” 

For a moment, feeling the warm spot on her cheek, she even believed him. 


	4. "Baby's First Sevenmas" - Jaime plans Cat's first festive season (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompt: Jaime is wayyyy to excited to celebrate christmas as a first time dad with Brienne" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to do a canon AU piece with this (I really want to write some festive canon fun), but I decided to make it a soft modern AU instead. Originally it was going to be a follow up to my prompt ‘Little Lion’, but then I realised I wanted to have Jaime lecture with one hand and hold his baby girl with another in this general verse, so here we go.

The landline rang. Sighing, Jaime paused _Dippy Dragon_ and answered it. “Lannister-Tarth residence.” 

_“When can we expect you and your_ partner _for Sevenmas?”_

Jaime sighed again. He and Brienne had been living together for two years. Their daughter, who was pouting that _Dippy Dragon_ was frozen on the television screen, was ten moons old. Yet his father still managed to lace the word _partner_ with venom, as if there was something wrong with him and Brienne waiting to get married until it felt _right_ for them.

Leaning back against the sofa cushions, Jaime unpaused the television. Cat began to giggle at the red dragon trying – and failing – to fly. “I’m not sure, Father. I need to talk to Brienne. It’s Cat’s first Sevenmas, you know.” 

“I am fully aware of the date of your daughter’s birth.” Not _granddaughter._ Not until Jaime draped a cloak around Brienne’s shoulders and their little lion was legitimate. Until then, Tywin’s eldest son had a bastard child. Jaime resisted the urge to sigh. His father did that for him. “What _is_ that noise?”

“ _Dippy Dragon._ It’s your _granddaughter’s_ favourite show. She likes the music and colours.” 

“Jaime—”

He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear that he should have joined the family business rather than get his doctorate in History and find himself teaching at Winterfell University. Didn’t want another lecture on falling for his colleague, his best friend, a relatively _poor_ woman from the Stormlands. Didn’t want to hear the disappointment that they weren’t married; didn’t want to hear the dissatisfaction that Brienne had fallen pregnant. 

More so, he didn’t want any of that around his little lion cub. 

Gathering Cat into his arms, Jaime pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head and addressed his father. “We won’t be visiting Casterly Rock this Sevenmas, Father. Brienne and I will be staying in Winterfell.” 

“Jaime—”

He ended the call. Actually unplugged the landline from the wall. Sent a quick text to Brienne ( _old lion on the rampage_ ) and turned off his mobile, too. They continued to watch _Dippy Dragon_ for a little while until the door to their apartment opened, and Cat immediately babbled in the direction of her mother. Jaime could understand her enthusiasm; he was excited every time Brienne came home, too. She dropped two bags of groceries on the kitchen island, and then swooped down to pick up their little lion. 

“Granddad Tywin called, hmm? Was he mean to Daddy?” 

“He’s _always_ mean to Daddy.” Jaime picked himself up off the sofa and kissed Brienne on the lips. He stayed close; an arm slung around Brienne’s waist as he tickled the soles of Cat’s feet. “I can’t have her there for Sevenmas, Brienne. This is her first…I want it to be _perfect.”_

“It can be. You can do all the things you wanted to do as a child. That’s the great thing about having cubs of your own.” 

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Cubs?”

“ _Cub._ Singular. At least until Cat’s a little older.”

“Alright.” Jaime kissed her cheek. “I’ll get you condoms for the seventh day. Rebirth and all that…or no birth, in this case.” 

Brienne snorted. “Remind me to take back what I’ve got you if that’s the case.”

 _Oh_ , Jaime had _much_ better ideas regarding Brienne’s Sevenmas presents. He was also starting to form some thoughts about their family’s first Sevenmas together. Their new home had a bay window on the first floor. It would be perfect for a tree. Lots of lights. Red and gold decorations. He’d seen baubles at the parent-and-baby store last week: _baby’s first Sevenmas._ They could get one of those; treasure it for years to come. 

“Can we have a tree?” he asked; their previous apartment had been too small for one. 

“Of course!” Brienne said, bouncing Cat in her arms as she went to put away the groceries. Jaime immediately steered her to sit at a barstool whilst he put away the milk, eggs, and bread. Both his girls were smiling at him. “Maybe we could have a proper tree this year. We only ever had an artificial one at Evenfall.”

“I’ll talk to Catelyn, see if she knows of any tree farms. There must be. You can’t swing a direwolf without hitting a forest in the North.” Jaime stacked a few pots of baby food in one of the cupboards. “We could have lots of lights up. Cat loved all the twinkly lights when we went to see Sansa.” 

Jaime could see it now. Lights down the staircase. Lights around the tree. Their entire home bathed in an ethereal glow whilst he and his partner and their baby girl watched Sevenmas movies on the big screen. They could dedicate an entire weekend to it. Make popcorn – or festive cookies! Hot chocolate, or cider. They could wear matching festive slippers or even pyjamas. Soft, and cosy. So unlike his memories of the Rock. 

“The Great Giant!” 

Brienne smirked. “You’re far too naughty for him to bring you anything.” 

Jaime grinned, and bent his head to kiss his partner. “ _No,_ I mean we could take Cat to see him. Oh, oh _!_ At the baby shop, there were lots of little outfits for babies. Reindeers, children of the snow, the great giant, a snowflake…we could get Cat one for every day of Sevenmas. She’d look _adorable.”_ Jaime beamed. “And we’ll have to find her seven presents, too. Things she can treasure. OH, and we can read her a new book each night; _The White Walker who got lost in the show; The Long, Long Night_ , that sort of thing.” His partner stared at him. “Is it too much?” 

Brienne shook her head. She reached out with the arm not cradling their daughter and took his hand. “I love you.” 

“And I, you.” He beamed. “This is going to be the best Sevenmas.” 

Their daughter’s first festive season, and the engagement ring hidden in his sock drawer. _Yes,_ this would be a Sevenmas they would always remember. 


	5. "Instagram Ready" - Hot Instagram Dad Jaime and Brienne go visit some reindeer (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "ahfövöeixjgnwlcit yes please give me the Hot Instagram Dad Jaime, and his best friend Brienne who is always mistaken for Joanna's mother. I will die but in a good way" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, the number of people who wanted Hot Insta Dad Jaime…I’ve written this with a festive twist, because that’s my vibe rn, and I hope you enjoy it all the same.

The term at Winterfell University had come to an end. Back at their shared apartment, there was a tall stack of marking to be done; applications for the new year to go over. But all were ignored in favour of the Winter Wonderland in the aptly named Wintertown _._ The smell of cinnamon clung to the air; the ground was frosty underfoot. And Jaime Lannister had forgotten his gloves, so he was keeping his right hand warm within Brienne’s own. 

“There’s a stall there selling hats and scarves. I’m sure they’ll sell gloves.” 

“I’m fine,” Jaime said, swinging their joined hands. His other steered the pushchair through the cobbled streets towards the reindeer enclosure. “There we go! I told you we weren’t lost.” 

Inside the pushchair, Joanna started to babble. Jaime leant down, removed the straps holding his little lion cub in place, and cradled his daughter close to his chest. By a stand selling hot chocolate, two young women stared and _sighed_ at the picture-perfect image Jaime made with his daughter. Both were in matching crimson hats with gold scarves; Jaime utterly besotted with the little girl who had his eyes. It was like a Sevenmas card come to life. 

Or an Instagram post, which had quickly become Jaime’s hobby. 

His account, _kingofthe_pride,_ posted snapshots of Jaime and his baby girl out and about in Winterfell; at home in the apartment he shared with Brienne. He had quite the following: many of his fans lusted after the hot dad enraptured with his adorable baby girl. It was a source of amusement for Brienne: she regularly teased him about his posts, and about him making her take the pictures. But she understood the benefits: after being left like he did – after all he gave up – it must feel nice to be wanted. 

“Okay, this will make a great photo,” he said as they approached the reindeer enclosure. “Can you take Joanna whilst I figure out the best angle?” 

Brienne rolled her eyes but eagerly took baby Joanna from his arms. “Come on, little lion, come to Auntie Brienne.” 

She bounced Joanna in her arms; the babe giggling and reaching out to play with the toggles on Brienne’s coat. Whilst her father looked for a shot that would make him evenprettier Brienne walked close to the pen. A reindeer trotted near them; Brienne reaching out with one hand to stroke their head. Joanna mimicked her; her mittened hand pressing to the animal’s fur. A smile crossed her little face, and Brienne’s stomach fluttered She would never get to be a mother, but these moments with Joanna were some of the best of her life. 

Two women joined them at the enclosure. Brienne looked over, recognising them from the hot chocolate stand. She held Joanna close as the two women cooed over her. “She’s so beautiful.” 

“Absolutely _adorable._ ”

One of them made funny faces at Joanna (who was more interested in the reindeer), whilst the other addressed Brienne. “It must be so weird having your husband and daughter on Instagram.”

 _Only when perfect strangers come up to me and think they know us._ Still, she felt the urge to set the record straight. “Jaime’s not my husband; we’re just friends. Isn’t that right, Joanna?” She bounced the little girl, putting some distance between them and the women. “I’m your Auntie Brienne.” 

“ _Oh._ I was going to say. That makes _so_ much more sense, now!”

Of course it did. _Of course_ there was no way Brienne could be Joanna’s mother. Brienne wasn’t beautiful or lithe or small enough to be Jaime’s wife; the mother of his child. _No,_ that honour went to his stepsister; the manipulative harpy that had led Jaime to leave his home, his job, and disappear for seven months only to turn up on Brienne’s doorstep brokenhearted and carrying a babe in his arms. But she would make more sense. More sense than Brienne, at any rate. 

The two women moved off. She concentrated on Joanna, who was still patting the reindeer. Suddenly there was a _click,_ and Brienne turned her head. Jaime, face flushed and grin wide, moved his phone from his face. “No, _no,_ Jaime.”

“What?”

“I am _not_ going on your Instagram account.” The day he’d set it up, hoping to show off his daughter in her lion onesie, Brienne had made it _clear_ she was to never be featured. She didn’t do social media for a _reason._ “Delete it. Now.”

Jaime shook his head. “It’s not for Instagram. It’s for me.” He showed her his phone. Joanna patting the reindeer, held in Brienne’s arms whilst she had a huge smile on her face, was his new lock screen. “Not every photo I take is for them.” 

“Oh–okay. Did you want to—” She gestured to his phone. This really would make the perfect shot.

“Nah. Let’s sit down; get some hot chocolate. Are you okay to carry her while I grab the pushchair?”

“Sure.” 

As they moved away from the reindeer enclosure, Jaime’s bare hand took her gloved one. Joanna yawned and grumbled softly against Brienne’s chest; Jaime squeezing her hand as he smiled at them both. It was times like this that they almost felt like a real family. _Almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to prompt me at ddagent.tumblr.com


	6. "Daughter" - Brienne tries to walk away from the family business (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Saw your post about J or B secretly being Westeros' Santa - what if Selwyn was Santa but wants to retire so he trains Brienne to take his place? And Jaime is... somehow involved? Lol" (wildlingoftarth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tell you, I am having FAR too much fun with these festive prompts. I hope you enjoy!

Brienne Tarth adjusted the hem of her skirt, pulling it over her thighs as she sat at the bar. It was far too short for her liking but was in keeping with the mood of the establishment she found herself in. It wasn’t her choice; rather it was Jaime Lannister’s, the VP of Lannister Holdings. A deal was in the works with Stark Corp, and Brienne had been dispatched to get the ball rolling. Unfortunately, Tywin Lannister’s heir could not be _bothered_ to travel up to Winterfell, so Brienne had taken a flight down to King’s Landing. She didn’t enjoy being this close to home this time of year but…needs must. 

“ _Psst. Brienne.”_

She looked up from her tumbler of vodka to find the bartender had been replaced by Goodwin; his hair as white as the snow falling outside. Her eyes widened. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“You’re not answering your father’s messages.” 

She hadn’t for some time now. Not his phone calls, not his texts, not his ravens. Brienne wanted no more part in the family business. “I have a _life,_ Goodwin.”

“You have _responsibilities.”_ Goodwin leant across the bar. “You are the daughter of the Great Giant; next to follow in his footsteps. It is your duty to—”

“— _no._ It is not my duty to do _anything._ I want my _own_ life, Goodwin!” 

At that point, the door to the bar opened, bringing with it a sharp blast of cold air. A figure entered; a charcoal coat swirling around his legs. Brienne took them in, gasping as she reached their face. The new arrival was the most beautiful man Brienne had ever seen. Dark blonde hair brushing the nape of his neck; a sharp jaw and emerald eyes. They cast a look over the bar, eventually settling on her. _Please don’t be Jaime Lannister, please don’t be Jaime Lannister._

He approached. “Ms Tarth?”

“Yes. You must be Mister Lannister.” 

She offered her hand for him to shake. He did not; instead shook his head clear of snow as he loosened his scarf and coat. He turned to Goodwin. “Whiskey, neat. And yes, I suppose I _must_. Unless you were expecting anyone else to handle a deal so important.”

“ _No.”_ She took a sip of her drink. Catelyn had warned her of the cutting Lannister tongue; their sharp teeth. If Brienne was to survive this meeting whole, she would need to get ahead of herself. “Let’s dispense with mindless small talk, shall we? It’s snowing outside, Highgarden FC’s lead striker is overpaid, and Sevenmas has become too commercial.”

Jaime Lannister’s lips twitched. “By all means, Ms Tarth. Let’s talk business.” 

It was at that point that Goodwin returned with Jaime’s drink. He slid the glass across the bar and immediately turned to her. “Brienne, _please._ I beg of you: call your father.”

“Not _now,_ Goodwin!”

She gestured towards Jaime, and Goodwin had the good sense not to discuss matters relating to the Great Giant in front of a mortal. He slipped out of sight, allowing the two of them to conduct _real_ business. But Jaime Lannister did not let the odd conversation go. 

“Friend of yours?”

“Friend of my father.” Brienne watched the condensation run down the side of her glass. “He wants me to join the family business.”

Beside her, Jaime huffed out a laugh. “I know that feeling. What business is your father in?”

“Originally it was…agriculture, up North.” Past the Wall, in fact. Her father used to give fruit to all those who deserved it before the Night King and his walkers had driven him and his Children of the Snow south. “Now he’s operating in the Stormlands. Toys, mainly.” 

“I see. _Odd_ move.”

Brienne smirked. “He’s an odd man.” 

“Okay.” Jaime lifted his glass to drink. “Enough _small talk._ We want this deal to happen; you want this deal to happen. I think we’d both like the contracts inked before the turning of the year. If we work all through Sevenmas, we should be able to get it down.” 

She frowned. “Our employees won’t like that. They’ll want to spend the holidays with their families.” 

“And if they want to start the new year off with a bonus cheque, then they’ll leave the boar and stuffing at home and _work._ My father doesn’t believe in shutting down business for a whole seven days. This is the _real_ world, Ms Tarth. I know you Northerners like your stories, but there are no white walkers at Lannister Holdings. The Great Giant won’t bring you this deal, _I_ will.” 

Brienne knew two things at this point: one, that Jaime Lannister was an absolute _arse_ and working together on this deal would be a great test of her patience, and two, no one was more in need of festive cheer than he. Luckily for him, for the next few weeks he was working alongside the daughter of the Great Giant herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to prompt me at ddagent.tumblr.com


	7. "Paws" - Jaime runs a bakery; Brienne is his favourite customer (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I please prompt bakery owner Jaime? Bonus for holiday goodies appearing!" (anonymous)

Jaime rolled over just as his alarm went off; _I Wish It Could be Sevenmas Everyday_ blaring in the still of his apartment. Bleary-eyed, he reached for his phone and slid the snooze toggle. Five minutes to acclimatise; five minutes to accept that it was _three-thirty in the morning._ But that was the life he had chosen when he had decided to open up a bakery. Gone were the late nights; the long lie-ins. Now Jaime was in the bakery by four in the morning to start his prep. 

Ready, willing, Jaime turned on the radio in the kitchen and listened to the Young Wolf and the Snow Man on the university station play _Seven Sleeps to Sevenmas._ Grinning, he started getting ready for the day. 

He hadn’t always wanted to be a baker. In another life, he had been the vice-president of Lannister Holdings. But then there had been the car accident, and the break-up, and during his rehabilitation, he had discovered a love for baking. Using his business acumen, Jaime had relocated _far_ away from his _dear_ family and opened _Paws,_ a bakery close to Winterfell University. It was him and one other employee; an undergrad named Podrick. And Brienne, of course. His favourite customer. 

Around seven, Podrick entered through the backdoor. Jaime was kneading dough for the pastries, and only looked up when his employee slid a cup of coffee his way. “Morning, Mister Lannister.”

“Morning, Pod. Should be a busy start this morning: early morning classes; people coming home from all-nighters. Help me put these in the oven, will you?”

Podrick helped with the first batch of croissants, before heading to the front of house to start getting ready for their eight am opening. Jaime continued to bake until the hour grew near, and then began taking his efforts out to the front. Golden pastries stuffed with melted chocolate. Long doughnuts iced with the great swords of Westeros. Sugar cookies with iced snowflakes; gingerbread with the old house sigils. His signature _Paws_ cupcakes, each with a molten centre and an iced paw upon the top. The direwolf cupcake was a favourite in Winterfell: grey icing; chocolate centre. The lion was his personal choice: red icing, caramel centre. Brienne often bought those. 

As he flipped the front sign to _open,_ Jaime looked through the window and scanned for her approach. Not yet. _But soon._

The first few students came through: tired, haggard, in need of strong coffee and a sugar fix. Podrick served them all whilst Jaime worked on his second batch of baking. Half an hour after opening, Podrick ducked his head into the kitchen and simply said, “She’s here.” 

Jaime stopped the stand mixer, wiped his hands on his crimson apron, and strode out to the front. There was a short line; at the back of it stood Brienne Tarth. Tall, as tall as he; wrapped in a blue duffel coat and a long, Tarth FC scarf. She had been the first to step into _Paws_ nearly two years ago. The first to offer him money, the first money he had ever truly earned. Their photograph, a poorly shot selfie to commemorate the moment, still hung in his office. He waved to her now. 

“Brienne!” 

Flushing, she ducked past the other two in line and came up to the counter. “Morning, Jaime.”

“On your way to Doctor Bolton’s class?” Brienne attended the nearby university, and lived in a student flat not far away. Thankfully, for the sake of his crush, Brienne was in _Paws_ nearly every day. 

“Actually, he cancelled, so I’ve got a free morning. I was planning to camp out here, if that’s alright.” 

“Of course!” That was why there were tables, and chairs, and mismatched sofas. To encourage customers to stay. And hopefully one would never leave. “What can I get you? Dornish Breakfast tea and a Lion Paw cupcake?”

“Do you have anything new?”

Jaime looked at the glass display. “I have a White Chocolate Walker cake. _Oh,_ and a White Cloak Cheesecake. The only dessert good enough to protect the King.”

Brienne laughed. She was studying history at Winterfell, and she always loved the historical twists to his menu. “Cheesecake sounds good.”

“I’ll bring it over to you.”

He ignored Podrick’s stare as he prepared Brienne’s tea and the thickest slice of cheesecake on the platter: it was vanilla, with a golden crumb, and caramel drizzle on top in the shape of a crown. He presented it to Brienne with a flourish; her wide smile making his stomach flutter. Most new businesses failed within the first year; even with successful businessmen at the helm. _Paws_ had struggled in the early days, but Brienne’s faith in him – in his baking – had kept him going. 

Like her smile, and those blue eyes, did now. “I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“ _Actually…”_ Brienne ducked her head. “I need a favour. Money’s tight, and Renly is moving in with Loras, and it would _just_ be for the Sevenmas period, but—”

“ _Yes.”_

 _“_ —I brought my CV.” She was already digging around in her satchel. Brienne handed him two pages: neatly typed, well-set-out. “I have a little experience in customer service. If there’s any work you could throw my way, I’d be so grateful.” 

Brienne wanted to work here. She wanted to work with _him._ “I love you,” he said, mentally kicking himself for the slip. “I’d _love_ for you to work here, Brienne.” _Much better._ “You’ve been coming to _Paws_ forso long, it already feels like you’re one of the family. Let me know what hours you can work, and I’ll see where I can fit you in.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Jaime.” Brienne reached out and squeezed his hand. “I promise; I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

Brienne was a kind, hard-working soul who made the brief moments she stepped into his bakery brighter. Now she would be working here, and Jaime could find out whether he made things a little brighter for her, too. 


	8. "Good Samaritan" - A snow-covered Brienne arrives on Jaime's doorstep (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Festive prompt: (Inspired by the Last Christmas video) Brienne gets invited to spend Christmas with Sansa and her friends at a remote snowy cabin. She accepts reluctantly after Sansa pleads with her. This could either be a fluffy established relationship take, where she and Jaime both are invited as a couple, or she meets Jaime at the cabin and all they do is squabble. I can't decide. Or if you feel like neither, you could do sth entirely else with it. Point is: Snowy cabin holiday :D" (anonymous)

Brienne pulled up to the cabin in her dented, blue convertible. Oathkeeper’s roof was doing its best to shield her from the snow that had begun to fall as soon as she’d passed the sign for White Harbour and pulled onto the King’s Motorway heading for Winterfell. She sat in the front seat, engine running and windscreen wipers going, and stared up at the rustic cabin located a few miles outside Last Hearth. Outside were three cars. Inside, three couples. 

Three _happy_ couples, and Brienne Tarth. Always the seventh. Always the Stranger. 

Sighing, Brienne turned off the engine. The sooner she entered, the sooner Sevenmas could begin, and the sooner she could _leave._ Opening her car door, Brienne ducked out and raced for the boot; the snow falling even heavier, now. Grabbing her duffel bag, Brienne locked the car and crunched her way up to the front door. Through the large, picture window, Brienne could see them dressing the dree for Sevenmas. Sansa and Podrick. Margaery and Robb. Loras and…and _Renly._

And Brienne Tarth, always outside looking in. 

Just then, a flicker of light caught her attention. With the heavy snowfall, she hadn’t noticed the cabin set just along from theirs. It was larger; a single car covered with a tarp in the driveway. A single light on upstairs. Brienne had already turned towards the second cabin without truly wondering _why_ she was doing it; _why_ she hadn’t knocked on their cabin door and been admitted to the warmth of the inside, the warmth of her friends. 

Instead, she knocked on the door of the second cabin and waited. Waited for a second light to come on downstairs, and the door to swing open. “Yes?”

Framed in soft light stood the most beautiful man Brienne had ever seen. More handsome than Renly; taller, well-built. Dark-blonde hair brushed the collar of his button-down; sharp green eyes dragged themselves from her snow-covered boots and damp jeans to the flakes falling in her hair. His jaw was as sharp as the blades Brienne handled in the museum. Of _course,_ she had sought sanctuary in such a place, with a man who could _never_ understand _._

“Can I help you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you here to serenade me with Sevenmas carols? Are you selling sugar cookies or gingerbread? Are you a white walker; is this the start of the apocalypse?” 

“My friends are next door,” Brienne blurted. “My ex-boyfriend and his new boyfriend are next door. I can’t—”

“—alright.” The man’s lips twitched. “You can come in for a moment; dry yourself off.” 

“Thank you.” 

The man opened the door wider. “Stay on the doormat, I’ll just get something.” 

Brienne nodded and waited on the doorstep for the man to return. He came bearing old copies of the Winterfell Herald. He laid the black and white print across the hardwood floors, and gestured for her to step on top. It was only then that he closed the door behind her. The man did not linger, however; as soon as she began to drip onto the newspaper, he took his leave into the adjacent kitchen and began pouring water into a kettle. One cup. 

“I really appreciate this!” Brienne called out; the snow seeping through her wool coat. Her t-shirt underneath began to stick to her skin. “Is there any way I could hang my things up?” 

“You’ll be wanting a key next.”

Brienne frowned. “You didn’t _have_ to let me in.”

“You didn’t _have_ to knock on my door. You could have faced the music like a grown-up and gone next door, or, _here’s a thought,_ not agree to celebrate Sevenmas with your ex.” The man left the kettle whistling as he returned to his doorstep. “Although I imagine you don’t have a lot of friends.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

“I know you’re hiding at a stranger’s cabin rather than being with them right now, so I imagine they’re not _good_ friends.” 

“At least I _have_ people to celebrate with. With an attitude like yours, I’m not surprised you’re spending Sevenmas by yourself.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He moved past Brienne; she truly thought he was going to yank the door open and push her out into the snow. Instead, he grabbed the newspaper and lay out more in front of the coat pegs. Then, he tugged at the ends of her Tarth FC scarf and unwound the material from around her neck. He took the sodden scarf and hung it on one of the pegs, beside one of crimson and gold. Brienne attacked the buttons of her coat lest her grumpy samaritan start to undress her. 

She had peeled it off her shoulders by the time he came back. She handed it to him with a flourish. “Thank you.”

“ _You’re welcome_.” 

His gaze slid over her torso, and the damp white t-shirt she wore. Brienne crossed her arms; the man snickering as he retreated back to the kitchen. _As if he would, Brienne. A man like that could fill his bed every day of Sevenmas. Seven times over, most likely._ But there was no one in this house apart from the two of them. She standing on the doorstep, dripping onto newspaper; he in the kitchen, dumping a teabag into a cup. He glanced in her direction and pulled down another mug. 

After the kettle had boiled, the tea leaves steeped, the man strode over and thrust a cup into her clammy hands. “Never let it be said that Jaime Lannister does not rescue a maiden in distress.” 

“Not quietly, at any rate.” 

Jaime Lannister smirked and took a sip of his tea. “The snow will stop soon, and you can head next door to your ex and all the happy couples.”

“Thank you.” Brienne drank a mouthful of tea. The warm liquid helped her thaw from the Northern chill. Jaime was still stood in front of her; she’d half expected him to take his leave, sit on the sofa, and blare something obnoxious on the television. Instead, he stood in companionable silence. “Why _did_ you let me in?” 

He shrugged. “Because I did the smart thing and chose not to celebrate Sevenmas with my ex. Consequently, it’s just me this year.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t speak again. Brienne finished her tea, handed Jaime the cup, and picked up her less-damp clothes from the coat pegs. The snow had slowed; she should be able to make it next door without further incident. Perhaps she could even come by again. No one should be alone on Sevenmas. 


	9. "The Knight Before Sevenmas" - Jaime watches a festive movie with his favourite actress, Brienne Tarth (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you are soliciting holiday themed prompts, how about one involving Hallmark Christmas movies? Perhaps Jaime unabashedly loves them and Brienne claims to hate them but secretly loves them too. I hope you feel better soon!!" (notjanebond)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is legit not at all what you intended, but when my brain went there I couldn’t say no. I hope you enjoy!

Tyrion texted him just after Jaime had finished his last class of the day. 

> Fancy a drink? i’m buying

Jaime sighed; considered his brother’s proposal. Did he really wish to spend an evening in a bar in King’s Landing so close to Sevenmas? The place would fill up with office parties earlier than expected; drunken men and women lurching in every direction – often onto Jaime himself. _No,_ he had better plans for his evening. 

> Sorry Ty. I’m Webflix and chilling, if you know what I mean.

He had barely packed his papers into his briefcase before another text came through. 

> You’re going to watch Sevenmas movies with ice cream, aren’t you?

Jaime flushed, unused to being so transparent. But, _yes,_ his idea of Webflix and chill was sitting at home on his sofa, with a tub of ice cream and the latest holiday movie to be put on the streaming service. Whilst his siblings scoffed at such movies, Jaime _loved_ them. The scenery, the story, the _romance._ He got swept up in all of them: a busy woman going back to her childhood home; the daughter of the Great Giant teaching a cynical executive the Sevenmas spirit. And tonight, Webflix had finally released one that was _right_ up his alley. 

_The Knight Before Sevenmas_ , starring Jaime’s favourite television actress, Brienne Tarth. 

He’d first seen Brienne in a thriller that Tyrion had made him watch on the streaming site. She’d played a detective; bearing down upon the criminals with her height, comforting the families with her soft, blue eyes. Jaime had become enraptured with the tall blonde. Then, two Sevenmas’ ago, she had begun to star in festive flicks. The sarcastic sister of the single father lead. The best friend who encouraged whatever brunette beauty to run after her love. Sadly, Brienne Tarth was always the knight, never the squire. 

But he had a good feeling about _The Knight Before Sevenmas_. 

Finally home, Jaime showered, re-heated some leftover spaghetti, and ate it whilst marking a few essays. Then, he grabbed a tub of mint choc-chip and settled himself in front of the big television. Webflix booted up, and Jaime clicked _play._

“Here we go.” 

The film began in ancient Westeros, just after the Battle of the Five Kings. Ser Robert Storm, played by that pretty boy Renly Baratheon, was competing in a melee. Jaime scoffed. “Highly inaccurate.” 

He won, of course, receiving a purse full of gold he could use to help a small village. Brienne Tarth – sorry, _Jeyne Hunt –_ was one of his travelling companions. She mooned over her knight; Brienne’s big eyes staring with unadulterated affection at a man who would never love her back. Jaime had read the description: Robert Storm goes back in time and winds up in modern-day Westeros, meeting Alyce - played by Margaery Tyrell. He knew these movies. He knew Brienne wouldn’t end up with Renly. 

Jaime sighed and dug his spoon into the ice cream. “Hopefully you’ll meet a nice hedge knight, Jeyne Hunt.” A thought struck him and he grinned; yelling at the screen. “Ride to Casterly Rock! I’m sure one of my ancestors would be more than happy to marry you.” 

But, as often happened in these movies, Brienne’s character did _not_ end up with someone who could love her. The man she loved remained in the future with a wooden Margaery Tyrell; he left Brienne with his sword and helm and hoped she would continue on his good work. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to knight her first (’Any knight can make another knight, _Renly’)._ Of course, Jeyne Hunt didn’t have to get married and produce heirs if that was what she wished. But the fact that yet another one of Brienne’s characters didn’t have _any_ romance upset him. 

Upset him enough to take to his caw account. golden_lion posted:

> Hey @webflix, how bout giving Brienne T some love in your next movie? She’s a beautiful woman and deserves some romance.

He clicked the submit button, and scrolled through to another Sevenmas movie. Jaime did not give another thought about his post; it wasn’t the first time he had used social media to vent. However, a few days later, someone slid into his DMs. No image. No followers. No posts, even. But their handle caught his eye. oathkeeper14. He grinned. He liked someone who knew their history. As he read their message, he kept smiling. 

> Dear golden_lion,
> 
> My friend and coworker Margaery showed me your post. I don’t really use social media, much to my agent’s chagrin, but I thought you deserved a reply. When I first read your post, I thought you were mocking me. No one has *ever* referred to me as beautiful. But it’s nearly Sevenmas, and Margaery persuaded me to give you the benefit of the doubt. So, in answer to your unasked question, I am happy to play secondary roles. No one, not even myself, would think it possible for me to play a romantic lead. But I did enjoy filming _The Knight Before Sevenmas._ I liked fighting with a sword. 
> 
> Merry Sevenmas, golden_lion. 
> 
> Brienne Tarth

Jaime’s thumb hovered over the _reply_ button. What should he even say? He thought about it during his next class whilst his students took a mock exam paper. And next, through a tedious department meeting. Finally, back in his office, he knew the perfect thing to say. 

> Brienne, 
> 
> I think you are more than capable of playing a romantic lead. Perhaps an audition might change your mind. Dinner, next week? I’ll be the charming history lecturer with a bad break-up, and you can be the compelling actress who makes me want to fall in love again. 
> 
> If not, Merry Sevenmas.
> 
> Jaime Lannister

Three dots appeared on his screen. Jaime leaned back in his chair and smiled. 


	10. "Plus One" - Jaime brings his childhood friend Brienne to his family dinner (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "AAAAAh, I love Christmas prompts. For your Knights Before Christmas, what about Jaime needs a fake date to his family's formal Christmas party and who else but his Brienne? 🥰🥰🥰 I hope you have a lovely December!!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a conversation with the lovely angel-deux-writes. I hope you enjoy!

Snow crunched underneath the tyres as Jaime’s sports car navigated the lengthy driveway of Casterly Rock. Sevenmas classics played low on the radio, and the woman beside him twisted the handle of the gift bag resting in her lap. As Jaime rolled the car to a stop, he reached out and placed his left hand atop her knee. Brienne flinched. 

“It’ll be fine,” he said, hoping his words would relax her. 

The bounce of her knee underneath his fingertips proved otherwise. “But what if—”

“No _what if’s,_ Brienne. People will have questions, _I’m sure,_ but why would we make this up?” 

_Because both of us are unlikely in love,_ was the answer, but Jaime did not say that. He could already see the line of Brienne’s shoulders tighten, and all he wished was to pull her into a hug and say _we’ll be okay; nothing will go wrong._ After all, this wasn’t the Battle of the Long Night. It was simply the annual Sevenmas dinner held at Casterly Rock, hosted by Jaime’s father, attended by his close family and Brienne’s. Their fathers had been friends since before either of them had been born, and thus he and Brienne had been friends, too. 

Now, they would attend this dinner as each other’s date. 

Squeezing Brienne’s knee, Jaime removed his hand and turned off the ignition. The loss of the dull roar of the engine seemed to startle Brienne, and she immediately reached for the door handle. Jaime was already halfway out of his. “Let me get that.” 

He jogged round the other side of the car and opened Brienne’s door fully. She frowned, forehead knotting, as he even offered his hand to help her out. “I can open a car door, you know.”

“ _I know,_ but I’m your boyfriend tonight. This is what boyfriends do.”

“Not in my experience.” 

“Well, in my experience, you’ve only dated jerks.” As Brienne’s oldest friend, he was introduced to any serious romantic partners before her father, Selwyn. As Brienne’s oldest friend, he was blunt in his assessment and thus Selwyn never thought his daughter dated. Until now, of course. “I must warn you, my romanticism may ruin you for other men.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Can your ego wait until I at least have a glass of wine?”

“Alcohol dependency – it’s like you’re one of the family!”

His comment broke through Brienne’s cloudy veneer, producing a smile he’d loved to inspire since they were children. Jaime closed the door behind Brienne and together they walked to the large, crimson entrance of Casterly Rock. A Sevenmas wreath, decorated in cranberries and gold filigree, hung on the door. How very _Lannister_ of whoever his father paid to decorate. With a hand on the small of Brienne’s back, he tapped the lion’s head knocker. And then, they waited. 

“No one will believe we’re in love, Jaime.”

“Of course they will.” His arm slipped around her waist, patting her hip. “It’s simple: we’ve been friends since childhood, and when I went over to head up the Storm’s End office, we got closer.” He bent his head close to hers. “ _Very_ close.” 

Brienne huffed out a sigh. “I still don’t think—”

But it was too late. The door had opened. Gone was Father’s ghastly butler Clegane; Aunt Genna, instead, was opening the door. With a glass of eggnog in one hand, she beckoned them both inside. “Ah, you’re both here! Your father was just asking when your flight landed, Brienne. TYWIN, SELWYN, THE CHILDREN ARE HERE!” Aunt Genna smiled at the pair, before a line formed across her forehead. “Jaime, dear, I thought you said you were bringing your new girlfriend.” 

“I did.” He pulled Brienne closer into his side. “ _I have.”_

Aunt Genna clapped her hands. “How _marvellous._ Your Uncle Kevan owes me five hundred gold dragons; I _told_ him you two would make a handsome couple. And _look at you…_ let me go get your fathers!” 

His Aunt waddled off in the direction of the parlour, leaving Jaime and Brienne alone in the foyer. He began unbuttoning his peacoat; unwrapping the knitted crimson and gold scarf from around his neck. He looked over at Brienne, still wearing her coat and clutching onto the gift bag bearing their offering for dinner like it was a life-preserver. Jaime took it upon himself to undress her, ignoring the flutter of his stomach at the thought. 

“Why are we doing this, Jaime?” 

“Because neither of us want to be interrogated over our lack of love lives. Remember last year?” Brienne nodded. Aunt Genna had sat her next to a revolving chair of cousins and nephews. His _dear_ sister had given a lengthy speech on _desperate_ women and dating apps. Brienne had been humiliated. Not that he had gone through unscathed, mind: his father had paid a young woman to flirt with him all evening. “Brienne. Brienne: look at me.” 

She did. He immediately faltered at the depths of her blue eyes, hypnotising him ever since she had been a child. Jaime dropped the ends of her coat and cupped her face in his hands. His thumb brushed over her cheek, tracing the edges of her soft smile. 

“If you don’t want this, I’ll tell Aunt Genna it was a joke and you whacked me one.” 

Brienne paused, thought, and then shook her head. “The alternative isn’t much better.”

“Is it that much of a hardship being in love with me?” 

“No one will—”

“—Seven help me, Brienne, if you say _no one will believe it_ one more time, I’ll tell Aunt Genna I’ve got you pregnant.” Brienne’s eyes flashed. “I believe we could be in love. Isn’t my belief enough?” 

Brienne opened her mouth to respond. It was at that moment that Aunt Genna and the rest of their families descended to greet the happy couple. 


	11. "Checkout" - Jaime and Brienne work in a supermarket just before Sevenmas (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime and Brienne work at the same winter wonderland Christmas light set up (do y’all have those in the UK?) as teenagers. Brienne is stuck handing out tickets on the coldest day of the season and Jaime is stuck in concessions. They’ve been separated because they won’t stop bickering and talking in the concessions where they both usually work..." (elizadunc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t quite…okay at all what you wanted, but it is J&B working together at Christmas in the field I know quite a lot about: retail. Happy reading!

“So, Tarth, do you have any big Sevenmas plans?” 

Brienne looked up from where she was scanning Mrs Fell’s boar and frowned. “Jaime, you’re supposed to be on the self-scans.”

Seaworth’s newest seasonal temp glanced over his shoulder at the six machines, each with amber or red flashing lights. Six customers, all getting ready for the holiday season, were waiting for approval or prompt clearance so they could head out and get on with their day. _Unfortunately,_ their attendant was Jaime Hill: the worst employee Brienne had ever met, and she’d been working at the supermarket since she was sixteen. 

“They’ll wait.”

“ _Jaime.”_

He handed her a packet of dry stuffing mix for her to put through the till; his sharp white teeth pulling into a grin as she scanned the product and handed it to a tense Mrs Fell. “You didn’t answer my question, Tarth.”

“I’m trying to do my job. Maybe you should do _yours.”_

Brienne then scanned through two packs of Sevenmas crackers, a large fruit trifle, and a pack of pigeon pie party food. At the other end of her checkout, Mrs Fell’s trolley was bulging. Brienne could not understand why people bought so much: Seaworth’s was only really closed for the last day of Sevenmas, but people continued to stock up as if the Last Night approached. This time of year was always busy, which was why Davos hired extra staff. Like Jaime. 

He was still grinning at her when a large portly man came over and tapped him on the shoulder. His moustache quivered as he spoke. “Son, your service is _dreadful._ We are seriously considering never returning.”

“Alright then,” Jaime said. “I should probably help the people who do want to come back, though.”

Two white spots appeared on the man’s face as Jaime flounced off to attend to the other customers on the self-scan. Brienne rang up Mrs Fell, gave a cheery (if forced) closing remark, and started scanning the next customer’s shopping. As she put through lemon tarts and mincemeat pies, Brienne stole a look over to the self-scan. Jaime was… _odd._ Had no grasp of reality; could not care less about keeping his job. It was like he was some secret prince, or the son of the Great Giant, like in those bad Vale movies Renly always made her watch. 

“Miss? Can I scan my rewards card?” 

Brienne nodded, scanned their Onion card, and used their reward points to decrease their total. As she moved onto her next customer, a tub of chocolates was thrust under her nose. “Chocolate?”

Jaime was chewing; his wrapper thrown carelessly back into the tub. Brienne sighed. “I’m with a customer.”

“You’re right, I’m being rude.” He turned to Mister Swann and shook the tub. “Chocolate?” 

“Oh, um—”

Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jaime, he just wants to put his shopping through. Look, there’s a girl on self-scan who wants her alcohol approved. Remember to ask for ID this time!”

“Spoilsport.” 

She didn’t know how Jaime got away with _half_ the things he did; for every customer he aggravated with his attitude, there was another he charmed enough for them to put a silver stag in his pocket. _When you’re that good looking, though, the world asks what it can do for you._ Brienne huffed and finished serving Mister Swann. Glancing over at the self-scan again, Jaime caught her eye and waved manically; his store-issued polo shirt riding up on his toned stomach. Why he had latched onto her, Brienne did not know. But he was annoying, and handsome, and infuriating, and funny, and she just didn’t understand why he was interested in her. 

Putting that thought to one side, Brienne scanned a crate of ale. She glanced up at the customer; a red-headed man with bad acne who looked around her age. “ID?”

“What?”

“Can I see some ID?”

“I’m twenty for fuck’s sake. I don’t need ID.” 

Brienne swallowed. She hated customers like this. Especially ones who looked so young and didn’t bother carrying any identification on them at all. And it wasn’t _them_ who would get into trouble: she could lose her job if he was underage, even get a fine. Still didn’t make the confrontation any easier, though. 

“Ser, we operate a think-twenty-one policy at Seaworth’s. If you look under twenty-one, I will have to ask for ID. Do you have some ID?”

“What do you mean twenty-one?” The man tapped the top of the crate. “Legal age is eighteen. Or are you as stupid as you are ugly?” 

“Ser—”

“What did you just say to her?” 

Jaime, once again refusing to stay by the self-scan, strolled up to her till. He looked mildly comical in his sapphire blue polo-shirt and reindeer antler headband, but his green eyes were like cut glass, and he had more than a few inches on the customer. Jaime stepped close; jaw jutting forward. 

“This ugly _bitch_ won’t let me have my alcohol. She—”

Whatever the customer planned to say next was cut off by Jaime’s fist striking him in the jaw. The redhead went down, splayed across the linoleum. The customer behind squeaked; one of the checkout captains called for security. Jaime just stood, flexing his fist, before he turned to Brienne. He came around her checkout, joining her inside. His hand was warm on hers; his gaze even softer. 

“No one should _ever_ talk to you like that.” 

“I agree but—” She momentarily lost her train of thought as Jaime squeezed her hand. “Jaime, you’ll lose your job.” 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Tarth.” He winked, before leaving her side. He pointed to a customer at self-scan, said: “Those are _clearly_ not easy peelers!” and left Brienne to explain to Davos why his seasonal help has just laid a rude customer out cold. 

The next day, Brienne expected everyone to stare, and whisper, and for there to be someone else standing at self-scan. But there was Jaime, as always, and a sign upon her till saying _please be respectful of our colleagues._ When Jaime interrupted her serving Mister Errol to offer her a chocolate, this time she took one. 


	12. "Mistletoe" - Lord Commander Jaime finds his children planting mistletoe in the Red Keep (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're still taking holiday prompts, I would love a mistletoe fic, maybe in the verse where Brienne is married to Renly?" (wildlingoftarth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick aside: as children, Cat and Brynden used to pretend that Ser Jaime really was their father. He was an old Westerosi prince who had fallen in love with their mother but an evil witch had banished him and removed their mother’s memories. Ser Jaime is now in disguise to protect his family.

“—and if they kiss, maybe she’ll remember!” 

Jaime paused his procession to the White Sword Tower as he heard the soft lilt of his daughter’s voice. It was just after midday, and both Cat and Brynden should be with their septa for their afternoon lessons. Sighing, Jaime turned on his heel and sought out his children. It wouldn’t be the first time they had found themselves in mischief. Rounding the corner, he caught sight of his eldest standing atop a chair whilst she pinned a small plant above the doorway to the Small Council chambers. 

Fear momentarily gripped his heart; Cat falling an image he would never lose, like the last moments of Aerys Targaryen. He couldn’t shout at her. She might fall. So, Jaime softly padded over to his children and helped Brynden steady the chair. He waited for Cat to pin the small white plant above the doorway, and then cleared his throat. 

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh, indeed. May I ask what you’re doing, Princess?” 

Cat turned, wearing a sheepish expression upon her face. “We’re…playing.”

Jaime looked down at his son. “My Prince?” 

“Robb and Jon gave us a plant. They said it makes people kiss!”

It was then that Jaime looked closer at the plant his children had pinned above the Small Council doorway. Mistletoe was a Northern bloom, part of the traditions of the old gods, but it was slowly worming its way into the rituals of Sevenmas. Lord Stark had visited recently, bringing his and Rhaegar’s boy to Court. Jaime distinctly remembered a blushing Cat, Robb following her with a large grin on his face. His own quickly fell. 

Fucking Northerners. 

“Nothing can make you kiss another person,” Jaime thought it best to state. “Just because you stand underneath mistletoe doesn’t mean you _have_ to kiss.”

Cat frowned. “Oh.” 

“Yes. Now, come along you two. I’m sure your septa – and your _mother_ –are worried about you.” 

Slipping his hands under Cat’s armpits, Jaime lifted his daughter from the chair and placed her down upon her – _Seven help him –_ bare feet. Young Brynden grabbed another bunch of the mistletoe, Cat grabbed her shoes, and both of them took his hands as he escorted the heir to the throne and the future Evenstar back to the royal quarters. They passed a few courtiers as they walked; Jaime with the children a familiar sight. Even holding his children’s hands, no one suspected he was truly their father. 

At least, with Renly in Essos cultivating trade negotiations, he could spend some time with his family unimpeded. 

Quickly they found themselves at the children’s rooms. He opened the door, and ushered them both inside. The septa was there, wringing the handkerchief in her grasp; Brienne resting a firm hand upon the woman’s shoulders. Two of his fellow brothers in the Queensguard visibly relaxed at the sight of the children. Brienne knelt down and gathered Cat and Brynden in her arms. 

“Where have you both been?”

Jaime answered for them, wiggling a bunch of mistletoe in his hand. “Planting mischief around the halls. I’d ask a servant to remove the one over the Small Council chambers, unless you wish to see Lord Stannis and the old bat get a little frisky.” 

Brienne pursed her lips before she turned to their children. “I’ve told you before: you _cannot_ wander off. As punishment, you will receive no lessons for a week. No sword-fighting.” Cat groaned. “No sailing.” Brynden let out a sob. Brienne’s chin wavered; she loathed to see her children upset. But they had to learn. She turned to the adults in the room. “I am so sorry about this. I shall take it from here. I believe I have to have _another_ talk with my children.” 

Septa Alyce and the two Queensguard soon departed. Jaime, unfortunately, had to do so as well. If he wished to guard Brienne that night – and, indeed, find himself in her bed – he would need to return to the White Sword Tower and at least present the illusion of sleep. Brienne walked him to the door; her hand light upon his arm. She did not need to thank him; they were his children, and he would _always_ protect them. 

“Do we know _why_ they were pinning it up?”

Jaime shrugged. “I think I heard Cat say something about her _remembering?_ I don’t know; probably one of their games.” 

It was then that Cat called to them from across the room, pointing at the door frame above their heads. “You’re standing underneath mistletoe!” 

They both looked up, greeted by the sight of the small green plant and white berries that had been the cause of so much drama that afternoon. In Northern tradition, they would kiss. Jaime would cup the back of Brienne’s head and bring her lips down to his; exchanging a soft kiss to sate the seasonal ritual. But they were not two young lovers; a lords daughter and a hedge knight. She was his Queen; he her Lord Commander. They couldn’t do this.

But Brienne was smiling. “It’s tradition, Ser Jaime. If you wish, you may kiss me.” 

Oh, he did wish. Closing his eyes, Jaime lifted up on his toes and brushed his mouth over Brienne’s. They had shared many kisses in the years since they had fallen in love; this perhaps was Jaime’s favourite. It was short and soft, and it was the first kiss they had ever shared in front of another. When he pulled away, Brienne’s cheeks were rosy and a wide smile was upon her face. He couldn’t help but grin himself. 

“Mother! Do you remember?”

A line creased Brienne’s forehead before she turned to the eager Cat and Brynden. “Yes. I remember how much trouble you two are in. Now, say goodbye to Ser Jaime and we can have a little talk.” 

Jaime waved farewell to his despondent children, but savoured the memory of Brienne’s lips all the way to his chambers. 


	13. "Play-date" - Brienne is invited to Jaime's house, sequel to '3' (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Could you be bribed with holiday treats to follow up on the kid-JB gift-exchange fic? The holidays are a good time to make friends." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve! I hope you enjoy this follow-up.

“Come on, Little Star; we don’t want to be late!” 

Brienne pulled the edges of her duffel coat closer as she padded down the last few steps. Her father was already waiting by the door; the sapphire scarf she’d bought with her pocket money last year tied around his neck. She took her father’s hand, and together they left their home and headed for the car. Her father had some last-minute Sevenmas shopping to do and didn’t want to subject Brienne to the busy crowds. So she was going on a _playdate._

She knew what that meant. Spending the afternoon with Mister Goodwin. 

As they drove through the snowy suburbs of King’s Landing, Brienne stared out the window. She soon realised, however, that they were _not_ driving the familiar route to Mister Goodwin’s. In fact, the houses were getting fancier; the lights more decadent. After turning a corner, her father pulled the car up in front of a large manor house; crimson and gold decorations covering the outside. 

“Dad? Where are we?” 

“I told you: a playdate. The aunt of one of your school friends called; asked if you wanted to spend the afternoon here.” He patted her hand; her father’s face broken by a beaming smile. He seemed so happy that she had _friends._ Brienne didn’t want to tell him that this was probably an elaborate joke.

They left the car, Brienne’s hand clasped by her father’s, and together they traversed the long driveway. The front door was huge, foreboding. A lions head knocker sat in the centre of an elegant wreath. Her father tapped it twice. The door opened, revealing a man taller than even her father; broader, with a sickly complexion. And Brienne thought _she_ was ugly. 

“I’ve got the door, Gregor.” A woman appeared, with golden hair and a pink face. She bent down and smiled. “You must be Brienne. My nephew has told me _all_ about you. He’s been so excited; he can barely sit still.” 

Just then, a thundering came from the staircase. Jaime Lannister appeared, wearing a scarlet Sevenmas jumper and gold socks. He pushed past his auntie to stand right in front of her. “Brienne! You came!”

And then he hugged her. Actually wrapped his arms around her shoulders and _squeezed._ Then, Jaime grabbed her hand. “Let me show you my room, come on!”

Brienne was yanked into the Lannister family home. Her father’s chuckle quickly faded as she was pulled further into the depths. She gave a passing thought for her damp shoes, her winter coat, but Jaime did not seem bothered in the slightest. They were climbing stairs and ducking past people and eventually they came to a single door with Jaime’s name painted across the wood. He pushed it open and took her inside. 

“I’m so glad you came,” he said, dropping her hand only to take a seat on his bed. “Do you want to play swords now, or later?” 

“I–I don’t know.” Brienne fumbled with the buttons of her coat. Should she leave it on? Would Jaime force her out into the snow when he realised it was _she_ he had invited, and not someone cool, or popular?

“I’ll call Chef, see if he can make us some chocolate-chip cookies. And we can have milkshakes, too!” Jaime grinned. It fell when he saw she was not eager like him. “Did you not want to come?”

“I didn’t know I _was_ coming,” Brienne admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “Dad said _playdate,_ and I thought he was taking me to Mister Goodwin’s. No one’s ever invited me round before.” 

“I haven’t been round anyone’s either.” Brienne stared. Surely _someone_ in their class had invited Jaime: birthday parties, barbecues, afternoons after school. But, from Jaime’s expression, it seemed as if he was telling the truth. “Father doesn’t let anyone come over. Says they only want to be my friend because we’re rich.”

“ _Oh.”_

 _“_ But Father is in Essos, and Aunt Genna is looking after me and Ty, which means I _can_ have a friend over.” Jaime bounded from the bed and stood in front of her. “I thought we could play swords. Or make-believe we’re on a quest! And later, when Ty’s finished with his nap, we can read a book to him. What do you think?” 

Brienne _couldn’t_ think. Jaime _Lannister_ had the whole class – the whole _school –_ to choose from and he had invited _her._ She had to know, upfront, whether this was real or a joke. She could call her Dad if it was; maybe ask Jaime’s Auntie Genna to call a taxi so she could stay at Mister Goodwin’s until her Dad has finished his shopping. “Jaime, why did you invite me?”

“Because you’re _cool._ You know all about swords and you made that Goldenhand present for me. Look!” He grabbed her hand again and tugged her over to a bookshelf. Her gift was framed and sitting pride of place. “Aunt Genna did it for me. She said it was really nice and I said my friend Brienne made it for me, and she made me find the phone tree Father binned and called _your_ Dad to invite you round. So we can play swords! I’ll let you have _Oathkeeper_.”

“ _Oathkeeper’_ s my favourite.” 

Jaime giggled. “Mine too. But you can use it.”

“Okay.” 

Brienne peeled off her coat, folded it neatly on a nearby chair, and took off her trainers. She wiggled her feet in her pink and blue socks, before taking the wooden sword Jaime offered her. It had been painted to look like the old Valyrian steel blades her father had told her stories about. Jaime took a cocky stance with _Widow’s Wail,_ grinning all the while. 

“Might I have this dance, my lady?” 

She couldn’t believe it. She was going to play swords. Play swords with her _friend._ Brienne beamed, and jabbed the wooden blade forward. 


	14. "One room" - Both Jaime and Brienne seek shelter from a snow storm (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Christmas prompt: Brienne is attempting to get home for Christmas and is forced to stop at a hotel due to terrible weather but no rooms are left. But who happens to be checking in? Her rival Jaime Lannister." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a twist, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Merry Christmas!

The snow was too thick; Brienne could barely see the King’s Road ahead of her. Stopping to make camp was folly; the ground was covered by a thick, white blanket, and most assuredly she would not wake tomorrow if she did. She thought of travellers coming across her corpse, of seeing the Tarth emblem on her belongings and writing a letter to her father. Brienne pictured the raven arriving at Evenfall Hall and her father’s face when he realised his wayward daughter was no more. 

Thankfully, just through the trees, Brienne caught sight of an inn. She pressed her heels into Sapphire, and the mare sped forward. 

When Brienne arrived at the inn, there were more than a few horses already stabled. A young boy attended the mares, and she handed him a gold dragon from her a recent tourney win to look after Sapphire for the night. Raising the hood of her cloak, Brienne entered. The snow and the forthcoming winter had dampened everyone’s spirits; the men drank slowly with not a word spoken before them. None raised their heads at her entrance. 

She took herself to the bar, and the innkeeper behind it. “Is there a room I can rent?”

Brienne kept her voice low, hoping the innkeeper would not recognise her as a woman. With her height, build, and cloak masking her face, most would not. The innkeeper gave nothing away. “Aye, there’s one room left.” 

“One room you say?”

The door to the inn had opened, and Brienne’s stomach dropped as she took in the familiar figure of Jaime Lannister. The Golden Lion of Casterly Rock strode in, brushing the heavy flakes of snow from his golden head. He was beautiful and _rude;_ arrogant, and charming towards anyone who was _not_ Brienne. They had met two years ago at a tourney in Lannisport. From there, they had continued to meet in jousts, melees, and feats of bravery across the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes he won. More often now, it was Brienne. He _hated_ that, as he hated her. 

Jaime Lannister joined her at the bar, placing down a velvet pouch full of gold. “I will pay you four times the rate of the room if you rent to me.”

The innkeeper paused cleaning his tankard, but ultimately shook his head. “I could use the money, no doubt, but I cannot, in good conscience, send away a lady in this snow. The Mother would never forgive me.” 

Lannister frowned, and then turned to her. With one quick motion, he pulled down her hood. His smile bloomed. “Lady Brienne. I did not recognise you. I should have…there’s no one _quite_ like you, is there?”

“Ser Jaime.” 

“You two know each other, then?” The innkeeper asked.

“Unfortunately.” 

Lannister pouted. “Come now, my Lady, no need to be like that. You were so _close_ during that last bout. Perhaps we could have a rematch upstairs. I’d be more than happy to pin you against those sheets.” 

“I’d rather freeze outside.” 

“Well, you heard her.” Jaime tapped the bar. “My key, good man?”

The innkeeper took Jaime’s pouch of gold, and Brienne’s heart sank. There was nothing, no one, that Lannister gold could not by. It had bought a place beside the King; it had bought passage to distant lands. It could buy tourney victories, but Ser Jaime Lannister had no need to pay anyone off to win a bout. But that did not change the fact that he had bought her room. _Fuck._ She would have to sleep in the stable beside Sapphire and hope she could keep warm enough. 

“Here’s the key.” He handed it to Brienne. “And here’s half your money. I only charged you half because you’ll be sleeping on the floor. I told you, Ser, I won’t send her away. Now go, get warm the pair of you.” 

The innkeeper then turned his back. Brienne took the key and her pack and made her way up the narrow staircase to the rooms upstairs. She heard Jaime huffing behind her. They had been given room number seven, and Brienne braced her shoulder against the door in order to open it. Inside, their furnishings were sparse: a large, rickety bed with a fur throw; a chamber pot and a small table; a roaring fireplace. Tossing her pack to one side, Brienne immediately warmed herself in front of the fire. 

Jaime dropped to his knees beside her, holding his hands in front of the flames. “It’s colder than all Seven Hells out there.” 

“I’m just glad I found the inn. Is Honor with the stablehand?” 

Jaime nodded, an eyebrow raised in amusement as she asked after his horse. “He is. And Sapphire?” 

“Yes.” 

Small talk concluded, they both busied themselves with getting warm. It had been snowing for some considerable time; the cold had seeped into their bones and the damp had soaked through their clothes. But, with a fireplace and a warm bed, Brienne could hopefully have a comfortable night’s sleep. Not so for Jaime. The floor was cold to the touch; no amount of furs would warm him. Looking back at the bed, Brienne realised it could _just_ about fit two. 

“Ser Jaime, we could _share_ the bed. If you promise not to touch—”

“—don’t worry; _not interested.”_

 _Of course you’re not. You’re only interested to mock me._ “Anyway, if you wish to, we can share.” 

Lannister gave her a firm nod, and almost a contrite expression. “Thank you, Lady Brienne. I would appreciate that.” 

After they warmed themselves, Lannister sent for some food. Brienne also sent for some, satisfied with bread and cheese whilst her companion gorged himself on wild boar and a steak and kidney pie. As the hour grew late, both decided to head for bed. He dressed first; shucking his clothes in favour of spares in his belongings. Brienne found the loose white shirt that had belonged to her father that would double as a sleeping shift tonight. 

Both then got in the bed. 

Brienne turned on her side, staring out at the falling snow. Beside her, Lannister wriggled on the sheets. “This bed is _hugely_ uncomfortable.”

“Would you prefer the floor?” 

“Can we switch sides?”

“ _No.”_

He grumbled but finally stilled. Then, suddenly, Jaime was on his side and the distance closed between them until his front was flush against her back. His fingers fiddled with the shoulder of her shirt, and for a moment Brienne wondered whether he meant to have his way with her. She kicked his shin, and he flinched. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Checking the wound on your shoulder.” He pulled the fabric over her skin until her shoulder was open to the cold air. Brienne shivered as the rough pads of his fingers moved over her flesh. “Just as I thought. The wound I gave you in Harrenhal isn’t healing properly. You should see a maester.” 

“Fine. Just _get_ off me.” She yanked herself out of his grip. Jaime snorted and rolled onto his back. _Seven save her. “_ What made you think to check my shoulder anyway?” 

“You were carrying yourself differently the other day. It’s why I beat you. Believe me, my Lady, if I wished to make love to you I would ask first.” 

“You could have asked to look at my shoulder.”

“You’re as stubborn as I am. You would not have let me, you’d have carried on, and infection would have set in. As it is, _I_ have to pay for a maester now just to keep the competition in the tourney circuit fresh.” He sighed and rolled over in the other direction. “Good night, Brienne.” 

“Good–good night, Jaime.” 

He snuffed out the candle and left Brienne to stew in her own thoughts. His fingers upon her skin. His insistence on calling for a maester. She sighed. The snow made people crazy. Perhaps, in the morning, Ser Jaime would be the man she knew and hated. 


	15. "It's Nice to Have a Friend" - Brienne asks a favour of Jaime, sequel to '1'. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would you consider a follow up to Selwyn as Santa/Jaime needing a friend? That was so good! I appreciate how much you do with these short prompts." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the last two days of Sevenmas prompts, but I felt this one certainly needed a follow-up. I’m glad you enjoyed ‘The Great Giant’! I truly enjoy filling prompts: it’s exciting what I can do in such a short window; it makes me feel really creative. I hope you enjoy!

It was the Saturday before Sevenmas, and the Street of Steel Shopping Centre was full of people rushing, pushing, and yelling. Jaime Lannister, however, sat in front of a sticky table in the food court, stirring a wooden stick in his lukewarm latte. He had no gifts to buy: his father’s assistant took care of all that. He had no friends to see: his father’s money and influence took care of _that._ Tyrion was working on a school project, which left Jaime doing his usual weekend schtick: hanging out in the shopping centre and wondering what it would be like to have a place to be. To have a _place._

He was content watching the ripples in his coffee when a shadow crossed the table. Jaime looked up, only to be greeted by tight clad thighs and _skimpy_ white shorts. He swallowed, lifting his head to stare into Tarth’s blue eyes. Jaime smirked and dragged his gaze over her as if he was appreciating the view. Which, in truth, he was. 

“Legs.”

“Lannister.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I need a _favour.”_

 _“_ A _favour,”_ he said, drawing out the word. “From me. What in all Seven _Heavens_ could it be?” 

Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Dad’s going for drinks after work with some friends of his, and I need a ride home.” 

“I have heard of this _wondrous_ contraption called a _bus,_ Legs.”

Her flush clashed horribly with her Child of the Snow get-up. Jaime was tempted to take a picture so he’d always remember this moment. When Brienne ‘Legs’ Tarth _begged_ him to drive her home. “We finish at six, and the buses stop running to our street at four. I know it’s a lot to ask, but my Dad doesn’t want me to get a taxi or walk home. He–he saw us talking that time you brought your brother and he thinks we’re friends.”

“But we’re not friends.” 

“I–I know.” Brienne Tarth didn’t _have_ friends. But, then, neither did he. Not _really._ “But my Dad–he’s over there, talking to Mister Seaworth—” Jaime spotted the Great Giant talking to another man. “—he thinks we _are_ and I just wanted to ask. I know you’d say no.”

“I’ll do it.” 

A crease formed across Brienne’s forehead. “You will?” 

“Sure. I won’t get any presents from the Great Giant if I’m not good.” _And I can say ‘I’m waiting for my friend to get off work’ if anyone asks, rather than lying for once._ “Meet me here when you’re done at six, Legs.”

And then Brienne Tarth did the most curious thing. She reached down and touched his hand. “Thank you, Jaime.”

She then turned, gave her Dad a thumbs up, and then the Great Giant and his Child of the Snow went off to his wintery abode to greet a multitude of sticky children. Jaime took a sip of his coffee, winced at the taste, before pushing it to one side. It was coming up to ten am. A normal person would probably go home, do other things, before returning to pick up their _friend._ But there was nothing he wanted at home. Nothing he wanted to do here, either. 

So Jaime did a walk-by the Great Giant’s grotto. 

He did it again. And again. On his third go-round, he caught Brienne’s eye and offered her a wave. A woman waiting with her toddler at the end of the queue looked at him strangely. “That’s just my friend. I’m driving her home later.” 

It felt strange to call Brienne a _friend._ Not that they were, of course. Lannisters didn’t _have_ friends. If Brienne was another girl, Jaime thought she might be using the ride home for her own ends. But he knew this wasn’t like that. Brienne had come to the guy who teased her daily, who called her _Legs,_ for a ride home. That’s all she wanted. Unless, of course, she wanted a friend, too. He could do a lot worse than Brienne Tarth. She was smart, and kind, especially to Tyrion. _Okay,_ he thought to himself. _It’ll be my Sevenmas gift to her. I’ll be her friend._

On his fourth pass, Jaime noticed the time the Great Giant and his Child of Snow had their break. He visited the artisanal coffee shop he always found too pretentious and bought a tea, a black coffee, and something filled with sugar and cream. He’d take whatever the Tarths didn’t want. Then, Jaime waited until the line emptied and approached. 

“It gets cold up North; thought you could both do with a hot drink,” he said, offering the cardboard holder to Brienne’s father, first. 

“Oh, you’re a good lad,” Mister Tarth said, his meaty fist patting Jaime’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jaime. And thank you for giving my Little Star a ride home.”

“It’s what friends are for.” He offered the holder, sans black coffee, to Brienne as she approached. “Thirsty?”

“Thank you.” Brienne took the tea, leaving the sugary concoction for him to drink. He took a gulp, and almost gagged on the intense flavour of the syrup. Brienne stifled a smile. “You alright there, Lannister?”

“Fine,” he gasped. “How’s your morning been?”

“Busy. I’ll be glad for the start of Sevenmas on Wednesday.” She sipped her tea “Do you have any big plans?”

Jaime shrugged. The last seven days of the year were mostly spent with family dinners, quiet reflection, and his father trying to complete some hostile takeover. His sister would sneak out to see her boyfriend, his brother would watch the neighbour children play outside. Jaime would— “Nothing, really. You?”

Brienne’s face lit up. “On the sixth day, we’re going to take part in a reenactment of the Long Night. My godsfather, Goodwin, is part of the local guild and he’s organised it this year. It’s not as big as the annual one in Winterfell, but it’s still a lot of fun.”

“I have an exact replica of Goldenhand the Just’s sword,” he blurted, quickly recovering himself. “I mean, that sounds…” Incredible. Awesome. The sort of thing he would _dream_ of doing. The kind of thing that you would do with a friend. “If you need a lift, I can drive you again.” 

“Dad’s driving.” _Of course he is._ “But we can give you a lift, if you want to come. Why don’t we talk about it later?” 

“When I drive you back, sure.” 

Brienne’s cheeks turned a rosy hue, and Jaime’s stomach somersaulted as he realised her next words would possibly turn his whole world upside down. “Well, I have a lunch break. We could talk about it then? I’ll treat.” 

Jaime beamed. “Definitely.” 

A line was quickly forming of more parents and children who wished to meet the Great Giant. Jaime faded into the background but did wave at Brienne as he left. She waved back. As his _friend_ got back to work, Jaime headed for the nearest bookstore. He was sure he could find something about the Long Night they could pore over during lunch. With his _friend._

It seems the Great Giant had given him something for Sevenmas after all. 


	16. "Accident and Emergency" - Meet-cute on NYE (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "JB meet-cute NYE?" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this marks my last story in the Knights Before Christmas collection, and of 2019! I have so enjoyed writing these festive prompts; I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading them!

The last time Jaime had been at Aerys Targaryen Memorial Hospital was a photo opportunity with his father; they were opening the Casterly Children’s Ward, and it was the perfect PR stunt. Even when his niece and nephews had been born, his sister had _insisted_ on her personal maester attending the birth rather than going to the nearby hospital. So, this was probably the first time Jaime had ever visited as a patient. 

“Hello,” he said to the nurse at the accident and emergency desk. “Some _cunt_ has stabbed me in the hand.” He lifted his right hand, covered in a bloody paper towel, with his left. “Can I see a maester, please?” 

The nurse barely looked at him, just pushed a clipboard with a form in his direction. “Name, address, patient history, circumstances of incident.” 

“I wa _s stabbed.”_

“In the hand,” she said, huffing out a sigh. “So far this evening we’ve had three stabbings, five burns involving fireworks, and we’re on our… _sixth_ case of alcohol poisoning. You’ll be seen shortly. _Now,_ name, address, patient history.” 

“Jaime Lannister. Leon Apartments, _the penthouse._ My _father_ —”

“—unless he’s a maester, you’ll have to wait your turn.” The nurse tapped her fingernails against the clipboard. “Fill this out and we can get you seen.”

Jaime held up his hand again. “And how do you expect me to do that? Use my mouth?” 

“It’s a better use for it then giving me lip. Now go and sit down already.” 

Jaime released the grip on his right hand for a moment to thrust the clipboard under his armpit, and then took himself off to the accident and emergency waiting room. It was barely ten pm and already the place was packed. Teenagers and college students pale and covered in vomit. An older gentleman refusing to drop the ice-cold can of soda he was holding to stem the pain of his burn. A young woman, hunched in an orange plastic seat, with a purple bruise blooming across her right cheek. She looked relatively normal. He plopped in the seat beside her. 

“Merry Sevenmas,” he said, offering the young woman a bright grin despite the maudlin surroundings they found themselves in. “What a way to spend the last night, hmm?” 

The woman looked at her shoes. A pity, as she had the most astonishing blue eyes. In a sea of white and beige, they were a splash of colour; a sign of life. He hoped it was an accident that had caused the bruise on her cheek. Jaime would loathe spending the first day of the new year locked up because some cunt had struck a woman. Although, judging from the size of her, he doubted she needed defending. 

“Had big plans tonight?” he asked, ignoring her lack of response to his previous question. Anything to distract himself from the pain. “I was at the _Blackwater,_ in Fleabottom, with my brother. Some wanker was being rude to him, I stepped in, got a knife in my hand for the troubles. The bartender said it looked clean, but forgive me if I don’t trust the opinion of a man who barely washes his hands.” 

Still nothing. Jaime looked the woman up and down. Well-cut jeans. A blue shirt that brought out her eyes. Blonde hair that pressed flatly against her long neck. Her fingertips brushed the edges of the bruise every now and again. She did not check her phone, like many of their fellow patients were doing. 

“No one to check in with?” Still no answer. “I’m sure there must be someone at the party you left.” Her shoulders tightened. _Ah,_ so she had been at a party. “Surely your boyfriend will want to kiss you at midnight; he’s probably—”

“—do you _ever_ shut up?” She finally turned to him, eyes blazing, and at that moment all his pain evaporated. 

“Rarely, and only when I have something to occupy my tongue. Any suggestions?”

The woman flushed; the colour clashing horribly with the bruise blooming across her cheek. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted away from him. “There are plenty of other seats in this waiting room.”

“Barely.” Since he’d sat down, the rest had steadily filled. It was going to be a _long_ night for the staff here. Jaime should suggest his father up their annual donation. “And anyway, I want to sit next to you.”

“ _Why_?” 

Why _had_ Jaime sat down beside this woman? As he’d left the reception desk, there had been five empty seats, two of them together. But despite the fact that she was tall, broad, and wore a scowl only a mother could love, she was certainly more normal than the rest of their fellow patients. And she felt… _safe._ Jaime had just been stabbed trying to protect his brother. He was _not_ a knight of old; he did not carry a sword and save swooning maidens. He was hurt, and he was scared that Bronn was wrong and that cunt had damaged his hand and this woman felt… _safe._

“I talk when I’m scared,” Jaime admitted, shoulders sagging. “I’ve never been to hospital before, and I’m really scared.” 

The woman’s expression immediately softened. “You’ll be okay. I was in and out of the hospital on Tarth when I was a child. Broke my leg, my nose – several times, actually. You’ll be okay.” 

“Thank you.”

She tucked some blonde hair behind her ear and reached for the clipboard in his lap. “Would you like me to fill those out for you?”

“If you could. I seem to be running out of hands.” 

A smile. Brief, but bright. It made her wince, though, and Jaime once again wondered what had brought her to this hospital tonight. For now, however, they were focussed on him. “Name?”

“Jaime Lannister. And yours?”

“There’s not a box for that.” 

“I know. But you’re going to find out my address, telephone number, patient history…all the _gory_ details. I’d at least like to know your name.” 

Those blue eyes were fixed firmly upon the form in front of her, rather than staring into his enquiring gaze. She tapped the biro against the paper once, twice, and then said, “Brienne.” 

_Brienne._ Good name. For a good woman, who made the last two hours of that year with a bloody hand almost bearable. And, when he was _finally_ seen by a maester just before midnight, she even waited to see that her prediction was correct and that he _was_ okay. 

Of course he was. He spent the first few minutes of the new year staring into those eyes. 


	17. "Christmas Past" - Immortal Jaime and Brienne shop for their youngest daughter (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Immortal JB christmas shopping" [anonymous]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt, Anon! Just a reminder for my wonderful readers: I am currently accepting general *and* festive JB prompts!

Jaime Lannister had survived many things. He had served under the Mad King. He had survived imprisonment in the Stark camp. He had fought the army of the dead. And yet Jaime Lannister, one of the greatest knights in history, was not sure he could survive this next battle. 

A shopping centre four weeks before Sevenmas. 

Staring in horror at the throng of people, Jaime turned to his wife. “You remember we’re rich, yes? We can pay people to do this for us.” 

“I’m not paying a stranger to buy our family’s Sevenmas gifts, Jaime,” Brienne of Tarth chided, before slipping her hand into her husband’s. “It’ll be fine.” 

Jaime highly doubted that. Yet, as he had for the last six hundred years, he followed his wife into battle. 

The Street of Steel Shopping Centre was packed with shoppers. Families wanting this season’s must-have toy. Husbands and wives searching for that _perfect_ gift. Tired and overworked citizens looking desperately for a last-minute present for that relative they really didn’t like but felt obligated to buy for. In that regard, he and Brienne were lucky. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles: they had all died centuries ago. They had a multitude of descendants, of course. And the Lannister coffers had enough gold to buy them Sevenmas presents ten times over. 

But at Sevenmas, there was, quite fittingly, only seven of them. 

“Dad!” 

His daughter’s voice called over the throng. Jaime remembered when the Young Lion of Casterly Rock could yell over an entire melee. Now it was holiday shoppers that she pushed past and into his arms. He held Cat tight; brushing a hand through familiar blonde hair. Eyes that never changed; freckles that never faded. Her younger brother was the same. Not all of her siblings were. Pushing down that familiar ache, Jaime turned to Cat’s shopping companion. 

“Hello, Gerion,” he greeted, wrapping his grandson up in another embrace. They were of the same age, now; passers-by would assume they were brothers, old friends, rather than grandfather and grandson. “I see you got talked into coming.” 

“Can’t say no to Nanna.” Gerion reached up and kissed Brienne on the cheek. “Plus I’m a little behind on my holiday shopping. What is Joanna even into these days?” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Queen dolls.”

Jaime, Gerion _and_ Catelyn all turned to Brienne. “What the fuck is a Queen doll?” 

As it turned out, a Queen doll was a fashion doll loosely based on the old Queens of Westeros. There was a cartoon that aired on some streaming site; the toy shops were rammed with carriages and horses and stationery sets so you can write _just like a Queen would._ Jaime stared at the brightly coloured boxes featuring plastic dolls with wide eyes and repressed the shiver than ran through him. 

“ _Fuck.”_

There was Queen Rose, in a green and gold dress. There was a comb to brush her dark hair, and a mirror so she could stare at her pretty features. Then there was Queen Snow, with a pet direwolf and a grey dress trimmed with fur. Cat picked that box from the shelf and smiled; no doubt thinking of a different queen and the hours she had spent running through the halls of Winterfell. Of course, there was a Queen Amber: she had a pet dragon and was dressed for a summer that would never end. 

Jaime swallowed as he plucked one of the boxes from the shelf. “Queen Scarlet.” 

“What does she come with?” Cat asked, staring at the box in his hands. 

“Regret and wildfire.” He placed the box back on the shelf. The doll’s golden features mocked him; her lion necklace and bottle-green eyes setting his teeth on edge. “This is utterly ridiculous. I remember when you were a child. You were happy with a wooden sword and a straw doll.” 

Cat snorted. “As I recall, I wasn’t _entirely_ happy with the wooden sword.” 

“No, you were desperate to have a real one as soon as you could hold it.” Jaime huffed. “Swords, I understand. Even dolls, I understand. These…some days, Cat, I just feel very old.” 

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a child.” 

The last had been Gal. Jaime instinctively turned to Brienne, hoping she hadn’t heard. But she was lost in conversation with Gerion, the two of them buying as many dolls and accessories as they could carry. And who could blame her? It had been two hundred years since they had last had a child. While Cat and Brynden had lived on, their others had not. Joanna was eight now. Soon she would grow old, and these dolls would be just a memory. 

Jaime picked up the Queen Scarlet box once again. “If this is what Joanna wants, it’ll be what Joanna gets.” He caught his wife’s attention. “We’re rich, my love. Let’s get it _all.”_

In the end, they did get it all. Queen Rose and Snow and Amber and Scarlet. They got the princes they came with (Jaime ridiculously glad that Scarlet’s prince was _not_ her golden twin). They bought carriages and horses and castles. They bought stationery and backpacks and princess dresses. Most would be gifts from Brienne and Jaime. But the others would pen their names to tags, too. Cat purchased a knight doll for her younger sister to play with. Brynden was put down for a boat the Queens could sail upon. Gerion bought his young auntie a whole heap of gowns fit for tiny plastic princesses. Over the immortal group chat, Brienne confirmed who was getting what. 

To no one’s surprise, Queen Snow was gifted by their oldest friend. 

After they had purchased half the store, Cat and Gerion went on to complete the rest of their Sevenmas shopping. Jaime and Brienne, however, holed up at the Good Knight Grind. They sat, sipping their coffee, as the world went by. 

“Do you remember all their first Sevenmas’?” Brienne asked as a family went past, no doubt on their way to grab a photo with the Great Giant. 

Jaime thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Not all of them. I remember the good ones. Cat’s first wooden sword. That _huge_ dollhouse your father made for Alys.” 

“Gal’s sailboat.” 

He squeezed his wife’s hand. “Do you remember our first real winter after the Long Night?”

Brienne barked out a laugh. “We jumped at every sound. Cat and Wynnie thought us mad.”

“I miss them.” Jaime held Brienne’s hand even tighter. “This time of year, it’s hard not to miss them all. Tyrion would have loved all this. The gadgets; being able to read a thousand books on a single device. He’d have loved dating apps, too.” 

“My father would have been obsessed with true crime podcasts.” Jaime laughed. “He would have been messaging me recommendations; every day it would have been something new.” 

They shared a smile. Jaime took a sip of his coffee. “I think we should invite them all this year. Not just our family but the others, too.” 

Brienne snorted. “Even Hunt?”

“Maybe not him.” 

Like they had spent many afternoons over the past few centuries, Jaime and Brienne watched the world go by. Cat and Gerion came intermittently to drop off bags of presents; their daughter and grandson sharing stories of the battles they had faced getting the last item on the shelf. Sometimes, Jaime Lannister felt incredibly old. But there was always something new. And as long as he had Brienne beside him, he could face anything. 


	18. "Ceasefire" - Jaime and Brienne celebrate Sevenmas in the Stark camp (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime and Brienne celebrate Sevenmas together." [anonymous]

A ceasefire was declared on the first day of Sevenmas. 

Ravens had flown from Robb Stark to Stannis Baratheon to Balon Greyjoy to Tywin Lannister and back again. A seven-day ceasefire was agreed as the War of the Five – now four – Kings would enter its second year. Brienne heard rumours in the Stark camp that King Joffrey would celebrate with a lavish feast, as had his father before him. She cared little for rumours. And, when ale was poured and the fighting stopped, neither did the Stark men. They talked of the first snow from winters past; of presents at hearths and joyous toasts raised in celebration. 

Brienne did not talk of her own traditions. She did not talk at all. And no one talked to her. 

King Robb’s army was camped near Riverrun. The King and his mother were inside the castle, celebrating a subdued Day of the Father. Lady Catelyn, in her kindness, had invited Brienne to join her at her family’s table. Brienne had refused; not wanting to cast a looming shadow over the already morose festivities. So, she remained in the Stark camp. She knew few faces and fewer names, so she just walked. Walked and walked until she found herself at the edge of the camp. Near the prisoners. 

“You look _very_ far from home.” 

Brienne’s gaze lifted from her muddy boots. It was a prisoner who’d spoke; his guards off… _somewhere_ enjoying the ceasefire. No one would be coming to rescue the Lannister men today, or the next, or the day after that. There was no need to wait by the cages while there was ale on offer. Yet, Brienne lingered. The other prisoners stared, despondent, at remaining in shackles during the high holidays. This one did not. 

“We are all far from home,” Brienne responded; chin jutting forward. 

He lifted his own in response and grinned. “I suppose we are. Happy Sevenmas, my Lady.”

“I am no lady.”

“Of _course_ you are. Even more, you are _Lady Brienne of Tarth._ The future Evenstar.“ His smile continued to widen. “They talk about you, you know. The other soldiers. They say you murdered Renly Baratheon; they say you stabbed him in the back because you could not have him for yourself.”

Brienne gripped the hilt of her sword. “ _I did no such thing.”_

The man bowed his head. “Forgive me, my Lady. I am just speaking of the rumours I hear in lieu of any decent entertainment.” He pulled forward as much as his chains would allow. “They say I murdered a man for reasons other than I did, too. You get used to it.” 

She scoffed. “I do not _intend_ to get _used_ to it. I served Renly until his last breath, and I will serve him until I bring his murderer to justice.” 

“There is no justice in war, Lady Brienne. There are no just men, either.” His eyes, emerald green, hardened as he stared at her. “Do you miss your father, Lady Brienne?” 

“I–I do.” 

He nodded. “I, on the other hand, do not. He cared little for Sevenmas. After my mother died, he stopped celebrating it all together. I grew to hate it, too. Yet, this year, I find myself longing to pray in a sept and raise a drink to the health of the King. _Anything_ to be out of these chains.” He swallowed. “Tell me, Lady Brienne, of your father.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because I am bored. Because no one talks to me unless they are threatening to kill me. Because, Lady Brienne, _I would just like someone to talk to_. It’s Sevenmas after all.”

Brienne knew she should not. Knew she would be cavorting with the enemy. But she, too, would like someone else to talk to. “Al-alright.”

A few cages down, some of the Lannister men began to hum old Sevenmas carols. Brienne recalled a woman from Braavos singing to them the last winter she could remember. She spoke of the one and only time Tarth had had snow, and how she and her father had built a knight from the falling sky. The man listened, quietly, as she told him about the celebrations on Tarth: how they would welcome the smallfolk into the castle; how they would exchange stories as gifts. Brienne ended her tale softly, solemnly, as she described how she left her father last Sevenmas to spar with some of the local boys in the courtyard. 

“If I’d known it was our last together, I would have stayed.” 

“It may not be.” Brienne turned from where she sat beside the man’s cage and stared at him. “You could leave here tonight. Travel home. Be with your father for the start of the new year.” 

“I swore a _vow.”_

“So did I. In the end, my Lady, vows are only as good as the people you make them to. Did Lady Stark even invite—”

“—she did, as it happens. I refused her invitation. She is a good woman and deserves to spend this day with her family.” Brienne gathered herself to her feet. “You know nothing of her.”

“I know that when the war is done she will either be dead and you alongside her or at Winterfell where her son, the King, will ship you back south.” He huffed. “The Great Giant will not bring you a knighthood for Sevenmas.” 

“Nor will he bring you your freedom. Do not think I did not see you eyeing up my sword belt.” Brienne raised an eyebrow. “Or staring at me; identifying my weaknesses.” 

He smirked. “Perhaps I find you so beguiling, my Lady, that I could not help but stare at you.” 

“I expected a Lannister man to be a better liar.” 

“I am many things, my Lady, but I am not a liar.” The man heaved out a dramatic sigh. “I _have_ been without the touch of a woman for so long that even your mulish features and fathomless legs distract me. Perhaps, for the Day of the Maiden, you will gift me with a kiss.” 

Brienne shook her head. “You will receive no such gift from me. Daydream, Ser, about last Sevenmas and what gift your maiden offered you then.”

“I was here last Sevenmas. And the year before, she—” He trailed off. He then averted his gaze; staring, instead, at the cell beside him. “She gave me nothing.” 

His words hung in the air like snowflakes. After a moment, his gaze shifted back towards her. Their eyes met. “If that is the case, Ser, I would advise not to give her the gift of your head by trying to escape.” Brienne adjusted the sword belt on her hip. “It sounds as if she is not a maiden worth fighting for.” 

“Perhaps you’re right.” A shadow crossed his features; the façade from earlier quickly shifting back into place. Happy Sevenmas, Lady Brienne. Perhaps tomorrow, on the Day of the Mother, you can regale me with stories of yours?” 

“I never knew my mother.” 

He gave a single nod. “Well, perhaps, I can speak of mine. It’s Jaime, by the way.”

Brienne’s lips twitched. She knew who he was. No other man would warrant a cell to himself; no other man would talk so brazenly, so boldly. No other man resembled the Warrior in chains. _No,_ Brienne knew exactly who he was. She also knew he was the first man to talk to her all day – the first soul other than Lady Catelyn to talk to her in _days_. If the vicious factions in this war could put their animosity aside for seven days, so could she. 

“Merry Sevenmas, Jaime.” 

Not Kingslayer. Not Oathbreaker. _Jaime._ From the way he smiled as she departed, it was as if all his Sevenmas’ had come at once. 


End file.
